“Besides the pillar and the needles nothing remains to testify the former splendor of Alexandria; a capital that once vied with Rome, containing a population equal to that of New York, (three hundred thousand freemen and as many slaves,) and that so late as the seventh century, according to the testimony of Amrou, its Saracenic conqueror, contained ‘four thousand palaces, four thousand baths, four hundred theaters, twelve thousand shops for the sale of vegetables, and forty thousand tributary Jews.’ A few ruins are pointed out, but these are fast disappearing with the ravages of time. Its name is the only memorial of its founder; and the long range of catacombs along the shore to the west of the city, the sole vestige of its ancient population. So rapid was the growth of the city, that at the commencement of the Christian era, it was ‘second only to Rome itself,’ and ‘comprehended a circumference of fifteen miles’ within its walls. It was a great seat of commerce. ‘Idleness was unknown. Either sex, and every age, was engaged in the pursuits of industry;’ the blowing of glass, the weaving of linen, manufacturing the papyrus, or conducting the lucrative trade of the port. Alexander, fresh from the conquest of Tyre, boasted that he would here build an emporium of commerce surpassing that which he had ruined, and thus would recreate in his own image the world he had destroyed. The site of Alexandria, more felicitous than that of Tyre, promised to realize his ambitious dream. Its gates ‘looked out on the gilded barges of the Nile, on fleets at sea under full sail, on a harbor that sheltered navies, and a light-house that was the mariner’s star, and the wonder of the world.’ But neither the felicity of its location, nor the enterprise of its Ptolemaic rulers, nor the wealth of its commerce, nor the learning that gathered to its schools the students of art, of philosophy, of medicine, of science, and of religion, could withstand the march of empire from Asia to Europe, nor the laws of trade that followed in its track.”
The present population of Alexandria is less than a hundred thousand; a mixture of all the oriental races, with many Europeans and Jews. In passing through its narrow and dirty streets, now occupied with a motley and poverty-stricken populace; in traversing the villages of hovels within its walls, where the Arab lies down with his sheep, his goat, his dog, and his donkey, all in the mud inclosure of a few feet square, which must be entered by stooping; and in climbing the huge mounds that are said to cover the ancient capital, it is difficult to realize that here once dwelt the hundred thousand Jews, for whom the seventy made their celebrated Greek version of the Old Testament; that here the eloquent Apollos was born, and the learned Athanasius conducted his theological controversies; that here Theodosius, by imperial edict, destroyed the temple of Serapis, and publicly established Christianity in place of the outcast divinities of the Egyptian Greeks; that here was a school to which the sages of Greece resorted for instruction in philosophy, science and letters, and where Jewish rabbins and Christian apologists vied with Greek dialecticians in the various pursuits of learning; and that here was a library of seven hundred thousand manuscript volumes, a British museum or a Smithsonian institute, boasting the originals or the duplicates of many of the most valuable works of the then current literature, and which, after the accidental destruction of a part of it in the insurrection against Julius Cæsar, and the willful destruction of another portion in the sanguinary religious wars under Theodosius, yet contained enough of written papyrus to heat for six months the four thousand baths of the city, under the summary decree of Omar: “If these writings of the Greeks agree with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be preserved; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be destroyed.” It is difficult amid such surroundings, to realize that here Cæsar and Antony dallied with the charms of Cleopatra. It is difficult to realize that where now bigotry, fanaticism and superstition hold sway over an ignorant and degraded people, were schools of theology, and learned fathers, and astute controversialists of the early Christian church; that here Christianity triumphed over paganism in popular tumults backed by imperial decrees; that here Mark preached the gospel of the kingdom where the Ethiopian eunuch had preceded him with the tidings of the great salvation. And yet that old Alexandria, which began to be in the fourth century before Christ, and of all whose palaces and temples and monuments only two columns are now standing, was the youngest of Egyptian cities, and was built by the conqueror of Egypt when Thebes, and Memphis, and the university city of Heliopolis, were already in their decline. Such is the antiquity that meets us at the threshold of the land of the Nile.
THE CATACOMBS OF ALEXANDRIA.
In connection with Alexandria, it is in place to speak of its cryptæ or catacombs, a range of primeval sepulchers, on which a prodigious amount of labor must have been bestowed. They are situated about half a league along the shore, to the westward of the modern city; and their intricacy is such, that formerly the guides would not enter them without a clew of thread, which they unwound as they went in, so that by following it on their return, they might secure their safe retreat. Dr. Clarke is very particular in his description of these subterranean abodes of the dead; and from his interesting narrative the following particulars have been gathered.
The original entrance to them is now closed, and is externally concealed from observation. The only place by which admittance to the interior is practicable, is a small aperture made through the soft and sandy rock, barely large enough to admit a person upon his hands and knees. Here, sometimes, the traveler has encountered jackals, escaping from the interior when alarmed by any person approaching; on which account, a gun or pistol used often to be discharged before entering, to prevent any sally of this kind. “Having passed this aperture,” says Dr. Clarke, “with lighted tapers, we arrived, by gradual descent, in a square chamber, almost filled with earth: to the right and left of this are smaller apartments, chiseled in the rock; each of these contains on either side of it, except that of the entrance, a soros for the reception of a mummy; but, owing to the accumulation of sand in all of them, this part of the catacombs can not be examined without great difficulty. Leaving the first chamber, we found a second of still larger dimensions, having four cryptæ with soroi, two on either side, and a fifth at its extremity toward the south-east. From hence, penetrating toward the west, we passed through another forced aperture, which conducted us into a square chamber, without any receptacles for dead bodies; thence, pursuing a south-western course, we persevered in effecting a passage, over heaps of sand, from one chamber to another, admiring everywhere the same extraordinary effects of labor and ingenuity, until we found ourselves bewildered with so many passages, that our clew of thread became of more importance than we at first believed it would prove to be. At last we reached the stately antechamber of the principal sepulcher, which had every appearance of being intended for a regal repository. It was of a circular form, surmounted by a beautiful dome, hewn out of the rock, with exquisite perfection, and the purest simplicity of workmanship. In a few of the chambers we observed pilasters, resembling, in their style of architecture, the Doric, with architraves, as in some of the most ancient sepulchers near Jerusalem; but they were all integral parts of the solid rock. The dome covering the circular chamber was without ornament; the entrance to it being from the north-west. Opposite to this entrance was a handsome square crypt with three soroi; and to the right and left were other cryptæ, similarly surrounded with places for the dead. Hereabouts we observed the remarkable symbol, sculptured in relief, of an orb with extending wings, evidently intended to represent the subterraneous sun, or sol inferus, as mentioned by Macrobius. We endeavored to penetrate further toward the south-west and south, and found that another complete wing of the vast fabric extended in those directions, but the labor of the research was excessive.
“The cryptæ upon the south-west side corresponded with those which we have described toward the north-east. In the middle, between the two, a long range of chambers extended from the central and circular shrine toward the north-west; and in this direction appears to have been the principal and original entrance. Proceeding toward it we came to a large room in the middle of the fabric, between the supposed Serapeum and the main outlet, or portal, toward the sea. Here the workmanship was very elaborate; and to the right and left were chambers, with receptacles ranged parallel to each other. Further on, in the same direction, is a passage with galleries and spacious apartments on either side; probably the chambers for embalming the dead, or those belonging to the priests, who constantly officiated in the Serapeum. In the front is a kind of vestibulum, or porch; but it is exceedingly difficult to ascertain precisely the nature of the excavation toward the main entrance, from the manner in which it is now choked with earth and rubbish. If this part were laid open, it is possible that something further would be known as to the design of the undertaking; and, at all events, one of the most curious of the antiquities of Egypt would then be exposed to the investigation it merits. Having passed about six hours in exploring, to the best of our ability, these gloomy mansions, we regained, by means of our clew, the aperture by which we had entered, and quitted them forever.”[forever.”]
BATHING IN THE EAST.
Before leaving Alexandria, it may be interesting to glance at the process and luxury of oriental bathing, so often described by travelers in Turkey and Egypt. The narrative is from Taylor, who, though deceived by his dragoman as to the excellence of the bath compared with others which he might have visited, gives us a vivid picture of the process the bather undergoes, and the full comfort that follows it. He says, “The bath to which he conducted us, he declared was the finest in Alexandria, the most superb in all the orient, but it did not at all accord with our ideas of eastern luxury. Moreover, the bath-keeper was his intimate friend, and would bathe us as no Christians were ever bathed before. One fact Ibrahim kept to himself, which was, that his intimate friend and he shared the spoils of our inexperience. We were conducted to a one-story building, of very unprepossessing exterior. As we entered the low, vaulted entrance, my ears were saluted with a dolorous, groaning sound, which I at first conjectured to proceed from the persons undergoing the operation, but which I afterward ascertained was made by a wheel turned by a buffalo, employed in raising water from the well. In a sort of basement hall, smelling of soap-suds, and with a large tank of dirty water in the center, we were received by the bath-keeper, who showed us into a room containing three low divans with pillows. Here we disrobed, and Ibrahim, who had procured a quantity of napkins, enveloped our heads in turbans and swathed our loins in a simple Adamite garment. Heavy wooden clogs were attached to our feet, and an animated bronze statue led the way through gloomy passages, sometimes hot and steamy, sometimes cold and soapy, and redolent of anything but the spicy odors of Araby the blest, to a small vaulted chamber, lighted by a few apertures in the ceiling. The moist heat was almost suffocating; hot water flowed over the stone floor, and the stone benches we sat upon were somewhat cooler than kitchen stoves. The bronze individual left us, and very soon, sweating at every pore, we began to think of the three Hebrews in the furnace. Our comfort was not increased by the groaning sound which we still heard, and by seeing, through a hole in the door, five or six naked figures lying motionless along the edge of a steaming vat, in the outer room. Presently our statue returned with a pair of coarse hair-gloves on his hands. He snatched off our turbans, and then, seizing one of my friends by the shoulder as if he had been a sheep, began a sort of rasping operation upon his back. This process, varied occasionally by a dash of scalding water, was extended to each of our three bodies, and we were then suffered to rest awhile. A course of soap-suds followed, which was softer and more pleasant in its effect, except when he took us by the hair, and holding back our heads, scrubbed our faces most lustily, as if there were no such things as eyes, noses and mouths. By this time we had reached such a salamandrine temperature that the final operation of a dozen pailfuls of hot water poured over the head, was really delightful. After a plunge in a seething tank, we were led back to our chamber and enveloped in loose muslin robes. Turbans were bound on our heads and we lay on the divans to recover from the languor of the bath. The change produced by our new costume was astonishing. The stout German became a Turkish mollah, the young Smyrniote a picturesque Persian, and I—I scarcely know what, but, as my friends assured me, a much better Moslem than Frank. Cups of black coffee and pipes of inferior tobacco completed the process, and in spite of the lack of cleanliness and superabundance of fleas, we went forth lighter in body, and filled with a calm content which nothing seemed able to disturb.”
EGYPTIAN TEMPLES, MONUMENTS, &C.
The ruins of the temple of Hermopolis, or the great city of Mercury, which were thought wonderful till the later discoveries in Egypt threw them comparatively in the shade, give some idea of the great range and high perfection the arts had attained in that country. Many parts of these ruins have preserved their original position, without having been altered or deformed by the works of modern times, and have remained untouched for well nigh four thousand years. They are of freestone, of the fineness of marble, and have neither cement, nor any other means of union, except the perfect fitting of the respective parts. The colossal proportions of the edifice, evince the power the Egyptians possessed to raise such enormous masses. The portico is one hundred and twenty feet long, and its hight sixty feet. Not a spring of an arch remains, to throw light on the dimensions of the whole extent of the temple, or of the nave. The architecture is still richer than the Doric order of the Greeks. The shafts of the pillars represent fasciæ, or bundles; and the pedestal, the stem of the lotus. Under the roof between the two middle columns, are winged globes; and all the roofs are ornamented with a wreath of painted stars, of an aurora color on a blue ground.